


So Tempting a Target

by Cicerothewriter



Category: Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicerothewriter/pseuds/Cicerothewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hastings does not realize that he is being hit on.  Fortunately Poirot is there to shed light on the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Tempting a Target

**Author's Note:**

> Series: This story is in the same universe as my other Poirot stories, and is set sometime after their marriage but before Freddie arrives.
> 
> Notes: Blame this on a plot bunny from _Queer London_ and the encouragement of my friends.

Poirot and I were leaving the theater after attending an operatic performance when I heard a soft voice to my left. I turned to see a young man standing next to a lamp post, his blue eyes looking directly into mine. I smiled back; he was quite a handsome fellow.

"Good evening," he said, his voice low and enthralling.

I nearly stuttered my response. "Good evening," I replied, unsure as to whether I had ever met him before. I suspected not because I felt sure that I would have remembered him.

"Good evening," Poirot said, stepping forward a bit.

The young man looked amused, and addressed me again. "Lovely night," he said, his eyes moving quickly down and then up my person.

I heard Poirot inhale sharply, and wondered what the young man had done to upset him. "Indeed," I said, feeling out of my depth.

" _Oui_ ," Poirot replied, taking control of the conversation. "It is a most excellent night for a walk."

Poirot clutched at my elbow, and directed me to continue walking. The young man laughed, and said, "It was lovely to meet you."

I hesitated, then said, "Yes, and you."

The young man pursed his lips, and then said, "I'm here most nights. Just ask for Shirley."

"Shirley?"

"Of course, doll," he said, and then giggled.

"I-"

Poirot interrupted with a hissed "Hastings", and his hand on my arm tightened. Shirley waved goodbye.

After we had quick marched away from Piccadilly Circus, I turned to Poirot and said, "You were quite harsh to that young man."

Poirot gave me a firm, dark look and said, "He was rude, Hastings."

"Rude? I thought it was a lovely chat."

Poirot stopped at his, and his expression turned from angry to quizzical. "What do you think that chat was about, _mon ami_?"

"Well, the weather, wasn't it? He did say it was a lovely night."

Poirot stared at me for a few moments, and then he smiled. I think I might have seen some relief in his eyes.

" _Mais oui_ , it was about the weather." Poirot took my arm, and we proceeded at a more leisurely pace.

Normally I enjoyed our walks together, but on this night I was disturbed by what had just occurred. I felt that I had missed some important detail.

"Why did he call me 'doll'?" I asked.

Poirot looked at me with an indecipherable expression, and I added for further clarification, "I am not a woman."

"Your powers of observation do not deceive you, Hastings."

I sighed, frustrated by his droll response. "Yes, yes, but why would he address me as 'doll'?"

"You really do not know?" Poirot asked.

I shook my head, disliking my helplessness. At least Poirot's expression became more sympathetic, although I disliked this particular sympathetic look. It reminded me of the many times I'd gotten myself in trouble and needed his help.

"He was trying to charm you," Poirot said.

"Charm me?" I asked, now thoroughly confused. What could Shirley have possibly wanted from me?

Poirot sighed, and shook his head. He then looked around, but we were alone on the street. "That young man was trying to seduce you, Hastings."

I was silent as I absorbed Poirot's meaning and all it entailed. "Oh," I finally said, feeling my face heat up.

I felt resentful of Poirot's amusement at my naiveté, and I tilted my chin up defiantly. "Well…" but then I was at a loss for words. I felt embarrassed but flattered, horrified that this had happened in front of Poirot but also excited.

"We're going to be late for our reservation, Poirot, unless we hurry," I said, deciding to ignore the situation.

Poirot chuckled, and we continued our walk to the restaurant.


End file.
